


Competitive Sex Sportsing

by TheMelancholyVegetable



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Queer Relationship, Competition, Husbands, M/M, Post-Canon, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMelancholyVegetable/pseuds/TheMelancholyVegetable
Summary: Patrick suggests a little friendly competition to alleviate some pandemic stress.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 42
Kudos: 163
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	Competitive Sex Sportsing

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> This is my first fic in this fandom, and first fic longer than a drabble. I'm terrified, but I'm posting anyway. Unbeta'ed, so I only have myself to blame.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> These sports are primarily played during the summer and have a seat at the summer olympics, or do not rely on it being winter to be completed (minus the aquatic ones) are found here. Equestrian, Archery, Cycling, Track and Field, Fencing, Gymnastics, Martial Art forms, trampolining, shooting, skateboarding, weightlifting and many more! 
> 
> Your submission for this prompt can be fully in an Alternate Universe, just canon divergent or fully canon compliant.

Nearly four months into the pandemic lockdown the Brewer-Rose household has settled into a comfortable routine. That’s not to say that David doesn’t occasionally spiral into panic mode (though he’d do that with or without a pandemic), or that Patrick doesn’t sometimes want to climb the walls; but, all-in-all they are content.

It helps that, when schools in Ontario failed to re-open after March Break, Patrick had seen the writing on the wall and started researching e-tail software and shipping options. “I’m sure it will be fine, David, but it can’t hurt to be prepared,” he had reassured his husband.

And, of course, he had been right. They had shut their doors on March 24th, along with all the other nonessential businesses in Ontario. That same day they made their first online sale. And with Alexis’ marketing expertise (provided at a combined friends-and-family and pandemic discount), their numbers were actually up for the quarter despite everything. Turns out, in a pandemic, people want to pamper themselves a little.

In the beginning, their routine consisted of lazy mornings, followed by work in the afternoons. Patrick went into the store every afternoon for a couple of hours to provide curbside pick-up service for some of their local customers while David labeled products and processed orders from home. They had changed their delivery address with all their vendors and had turned their would-be guest room into a makeshift, temporary workspace. But about a month in, Patrick found himself bursting with pent up energy. He missed his gym membership, and while he still went on the occasional hike, that wasn’t really an everyday option. At the same time, he noticed that David seemed to get more and more tense as the days went on. That’s when he had the idea.

“How about a little friendly competition?” he asked his husband, seemingly out of the blue, as he applied David’s eye serum for the third night in a row because David claimed his hands were just too unsteady to do it himself. Predictably, Patrick was treated to a fairly spectacular face journey before David settled on a response.

“Is this a sex thing?”

Patrick huffed out a startled laugh. “No. No, it’s not a sex thing.”

David looked mildly disappointed and very apprehensive, but Patrick forged on. He had a plan, and he really wanted David on board.

“I have a home gym in my parent’s garage back home. I want to go up there and pick it up and set it up here in our garage.”

“O-kaaaay,” David responded, his voice rising in a question. “And you want me to, what, compete with you to see who can benchlift the most? Because A, I don’t do home gyms, and B, you would obviously win that competition.”

“No. That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Patrick said, setting down the eye serum and washing his hands at the sink. He turned and walked out of the en suite to sit at the foot of their bed, legs apart and arms open in invitation. David took the hint, drifting over to stand in front of him between his legs, and Patrick ran his hands up gently up and down his husband’s arms. “I was thinking about how you used to do yoga to help with your stress. And about how working out always helps me with my stress. So I thought it mighit be good for both of us to do those things again.”

David moved to sit on the bed next to him and laid back, pulling Patrick by the shoulder to lie down next to him. They instinctively settled into one of their standard positions, pressed together shoulder to hip, with Patrick’s right hand wrapped in David’s left, heads tilted toward each other as they looked up at the ceiling. “And this would be a competition how?”

“Well, I-,” Patrick stammered a bit, “I like to, to have goals. When I work out, and stuff. You know?”

David grinned. “Yes, go on.” He loved it when his husband turned inarticulate. It usually ended in a good time.

“Okay, so, I was thinking…I could set myself some strength goals, and maybe you could set yourself some, I don’t know, flexibility goals? And we can see who reaches their goals first. A competition.”

“So,” David began, and Patrick could hear the smirk in his voice, “you get stronger and I get more flexible.” Patrick turned his head to see his husband’s right eyebrow disappearing into his hairline. He could feel his face and neck turning red, but he held David’s gaze. “I thought you said this wasn’t a sex thing.”

# # #

And that is how, on a Wednesday morning in July, Patrick finds himself sweating profusely (the downside of working out in a garage in the dead of summer) in the doorway leading from the garage into the den, gulping water and ogling his husband’s ass, which is stuck up in the air in what David has informed him is [Crow Pose](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bakasana). He is equal parts turned on and proud. When he’d suggested this competition back in April, he had not really expected David to take to it. But his husband had surprised him, purchasing a set of instructional yoga DVDs, and working his way diligently through a series of increasingly difficult poses. If Patrick is honest, he has to admit that David is absolutely winning this competition. The yoga is definitely improving his flexibility, but it is also improving his strength. So Patrick is proud. And impressed. And he’ll tell David that later. Right now he’s too busy.

David shifts as though to lower himself from the pose.

“Stop,” Patrick says, his voice coming out deep and gravelly as he strides across the room to his husband.

Somewhat to his surprise, David stops.

“How long can you hold that pose?”

“Not long, so hurry,” David grunts out. Patrick reaches out and grabs the ass on display in front of him, squeezing hard before sliding one finger along the cleft, fingertip pressing in just behind David’s balls through his yoga pants. “Fuck,” he whispers. And that, apparently, is all David can take. His arms give out and he collapses on the floor, rolling over onto his back. Patrick is instantly on him, straddling his hips, burying his nose into David’s neck, just below his ear, and breathing him in. “That was very disappointing, David. I think you can do better,” he says in the most commanding voice he can muster.

The effect is diminished somewhat by the hitch in his breath as their cocks rub together through their loose workout pants. David takes advantage of his weakness, snarking up at him, “Mmm, if I recall this is a competition. Show me what you’ve got, Brewer.” He punctuates his taunt with a pointed roll of his hips.

Patrick has never been one to stand down from a challenge. He stands up, putting his hand out to haul David to his feet and right into a searing kiss. For a few minutes they are all lips and tongues and teeth as they inch their way toward the stairs. Then Patrick pulls back, swats David on the ass, and growls, “upstairs, now!” David lets out a yelp and runs up the stairs, t-shirt coming off before he’s halfway up. Patrick stands at the bottom and enjoys the view for a moment, then follows.

They are both naked before they reach the bedroom. Patrick takes charge immediately, telling David quietly, but firmly, to “sit on the edge of the bed, on my side.” Because of the position of the bedroom windows, their king size bed is positioned closer to the wall on Patrick’s side than David’s side. Patrick plans to use this fact to his advantage. He feels powerful as he goes to stand in between his husband’s legs. Usually he is the one looking up when they kiss, and he loves that, but he also loves this. Loves David looking up at him. Especially with pupils blown, eyelids hooded, and mouth half open with lust, as he is right now. Patrick has never seen anything more beautiful than a turned-on David Brewer-Rose. He looks down at David now, runs his hands over his shoulders and back, and draws him in toward him. David, in turn, rests his hands on Patrick’s hips and presses kisses to his chest and stomach, softly at first, then with more intensity, sucking and biting at his abdomen. Patrick lets himself enjoy the sensation for a few minutes before taking control again, pulling David away from him by his hair to look down into his eyes.

“Lay back, baby. Scooch back, hold your legs up for me.”

David does, and Patrick turns to the bedside table to get the lube from the drawer. Turning back, he runs his hands down the backs of David’s thighs, from his knees down to where his legs meet his ass, then back up his inner thighs. He does this several times, feather-light at first, and then harder with each pass until he’s scratching marks into the skin and David is moaning. He gets his fingers coated in lube and reaches down to stroke his husband’s cock a few times before pressing a slick finger against his rim, then watching it disappear into his tight hole. “Fuck, David, look at you. You look so good like this.”

Patrick could do this all day. Take David apart slowly, savoring every moan, every stuttering breath, every shiver of exquisitely naked skin. But that will have to wait until another day. Right now, he has a plan, and savoring is not on the agenda. He presses in a second finger, and then a third, making quick work of opening his husband up.

When Patrick pulls his fingers out, David whimpers. He taps David’s thigh. “Sit up, baby. Put your legs over my shoulders, but don’t lay back.”

David shudders out a sound that is something between a moan and a whimper and obediently follows Patrick’s direction. Patrick lines the head of his cock up against David’s rim and slowly pushes into the tight heat. With David sitting up like this, legs over Patrick’s shoulders, he is practically folded in half.

As Patrick bottoms out, David growls, “ffffffuuuuuck,” and leans up for a kiss. Patrick obliges, sliding his tongue along David’s bottom lip before biting down. David opens his mouth and they kiss languidly, softly brushing their lips together and breathing each other’s breath until David tells him, “Move, please. You have to move.”

Patrick begins a slow, steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out slowly before slamming back in as deep as he can get. “Good, baby,” he praises, “God, that’s so hot. You’re so good for me.” He runs his hands down David’s back to grip under his buttocks, bends at the knees to get leverage, and hauls David up. He is now standing, holding all of his husband’s weight, David’s legs still up over his shoulders.

“Fuck, Patrick!” David half growls, half laughs. It is the best sound Patrick has ever heard, and it spurs him to new heights. He picks up the pace, driving up into David’s tight, wet hole harder and faster to a hushed chorus of “fuck,” and “Pa-, Patr,” and “ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod” spilling from David’s lips.

Sooner than he would like, he starts to flag; so, he turns around and presses David into the wall, adjusting his grip so that David’s legs slide down and wrap around his hips. He can tell from the hitch in David’s breathing, and the little gasped “oh,” that the change in angle means he is hitting his prostate with every thrust. He knows his arms are not going to hold out much longer, so he sets up a relentless pace and starts up a litany, “Touch yourself. Come for me, baby. I’m close. Wanna feel you.” Less than a minute later he feels David’s muscles clenching around his cock and that is all it takes. He crowds David up against the wall as he comes, and comes, and comes into his tight heat.

David lets his legs fall away from Patrick and stumbles forward onto the bed. Patrick falls next to him, breathing heavily. They lay there, sated, limbs entwined, exchanging soft kisses as their heartrates slow and their breathing gets back to normal. 

Afterward they clean up and curl back up on the bed to indulge in some snuggling before they have to get to work. Patrick lies on his back with David’s head resting on his chest, his own arm wrapped around David’s shoulder. He can feel David’s back shaking, his breath a series of soft puffs against his chest.

“What are you laughing at?” Patrick leans in to place a kiss on David’s temple.

“I don’t know who won this round, but honey, this competitive sex sportsing thing is the best idea you have ever had.”


End file.
